Training in the Borscht Belt
Always the optimist, Tony was a master at promising to do what couldn’t be done. And while not always what he hoped, he came to accept the yin and yang of it’s just a matter of time. Even though he would be the first to do it, Tony disliked fist pump (shining a light on himself) and exaggerated or non-exaggerated self-praise. When they would say he was a genius, he believed they were promoting themselves as a genius for seeing his genius and compliments as self-promotion made him angry. To not stay angry for long, he was reminded of times he was never angry-the good times he spent working as a waiter in the Catskills.
Pleasant Acres (a.k.a, Saustos) was a resort where Italian-American families would go year after year for a week of summer vacation. During his summer breaks while in college, Tony worked there as a waiter serving three family-style meals a day, 7 days a week. On Saturday night, waiters at Pleasant Acres put on a “talent show” to welcome and “introduce themselves” to the vacationing policemen, firemen, and other New York City servants and Friday nights they bid them farewell with another show. Tony had no talent compared to the boys from New York City who attended the “PA” on 120 West 46th Street or some other high school for those gifted and talented in everything imaginable. Of course, this was not a reason for not participating when a “highlight” of the “show” was a chorus line of the family waiters singing a lame song about dirty underwear proceeding with …
Who’s got dirty mutande on? Who’s got dirty mutande on?
Bobby? [silly dance and drop trou reveal] No, no, no no!
Lennie? [sillier dance and drop trou reveal] No, no, no no!
Michael? [sillier dance and drop trou reveal] No, no, no no!
…and carrying on until Tony’s over the top silly dance and drop trou reveal of brown shoe polish-stained boxers...
You had to be there…So awkward and talent-deprived, he always left the audience gasping and asking for less.
If he did the show today, here’s a couple of bits he would probably include in his performance.
So I asked the Foundation Doctor where he got his degree and he said, “the same place the Grout Doctor, Garage Door Doctor, Appliance Doctor, Well Doctor, Sewer Doctor, and Bite Me Doctor got theirs, smott ass.”
I was watching TV with the sound off the other day and apparently those “Million Dollar…” shows like Million $ Wheels, Million $ Cribs, Million $ Lids, Million $ Listing, Million $ Shoes, and Million $ Boobs” produced and promoted by former overpaid now unemployed actors and millionaires are the rage.
Worried that he didn’t have the testicular fortitude to address the tamale shortage resulting from the supply chain crisis, the President instead chose to release his personal gas reserves.
Pilot testified that he never saw sexual activity on the plane and the cockpit door was always closed.
Sometimes it would probably be so quiet you could hear a rat piss on cotton.
